


It's Okay

by FlyUsOutOfHere



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Ian and Trevor Finally Learn To Communicate, M/M, Mentioned Carl Gallagher, Mentioned Debbie Gallagher, One Shot, implied/referenced depressive episode, mentioned franny gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:48:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyUsOutOfHere/pseuds/FlyUsOutOfHere
Summary: Ian goes into a depressive episode because his meds are unbalanced and Trevor goes to check on him.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Trevor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 43





	It's Okay

It took a week for Trevor to finally have enough. He’d been calling Ian twice a day, for the first three days, and then once a day, until Day Six, when he just stopped calling. If Ian was gonna be like that, fine. Trevor could handle it. But he atleast wanted an explanation of why Ian decided to drop off the face of the Earth with no warning. He’d considered stopping by Ian’s house that he shared with all his siblings and their various guests, but he didn’t want to seem desperate. It’s not like he and Ian had even made anything official yet. Trevor loved Ian, maybe, and he sure hoped Ian felt the same, but they weren’t living together or meeting the parents (although, Trevor has had more than his fair share of interactions with Frank) yet. So maybe it was okay for Ian to just leave without telling him, and Trevor tries to convince himself that everything’s fine. They’re fine, it’s all fine. Maybe Ian just needed some space (or maybe he ran off with some random guy or maybe he fucking immigrated to Mexico or maybe he’s laying dead in a ditch somewhere). 

Finally, on Day Seven, Trevor gave in to the voice in his head telling him to find Ian. When he gets off work, he takes his shitty but also wonderful car and heads over to the Gallaghers’. He slowly gets out and goes to the door, gently knocking. Lip, who Trevor’s only talked to a handful of times after the infamous ‘lady parts’ incident, answers the door almost immediately. He has a cigarette dangling out of his mouth and he’s holding onto a fussy Franny. 

“Yeah?” Lip asks after Trevor doesn’t say anything. 

“Ian here?” Trevor asks, his hands in his jean pockets. 

“Yeah, upstairs. Here, come in,” Lip said, open the door a little wider with one arm. Trevor walks inside and closes the door after him. Lip walks into the kitchen, absentmindedly handing Franny off to Carl and opening the fridge to grab the pitcher of defrosted orange juice Debbie had gotten from the food bank.

“You want anything?” Lip asks, beckoning to the fridge. Trevor shakes his head, and Lip shrugs. “You can go talk to Ian, if you want. He might not let you, though. Been holed up in his room for like a week. His meds got fucked up, or maybe he fucked them up, I don’t know.” 

“He’s on meds?” Trevor asks, not able to stifle his curiosity. “Is he sick or something?” 

“Nah, man. Not sick, like a fucking cold or something. He didn’t tell you?” Lip asks, dumping his empty cup into the sink, a small smile forming. Of course, Ian didn’t fucking tell him. 

“Tell me what?” Trevor asks, now more concerned than curious. 

“Not my place to tell. Go talk to him, you’ll figure it out. Now, I gotta go,” Lip said as he grabbed his jacket and went out the back door, lighting up another cigarette as he walked away. Trevor sighs, before heading up the stairs. He reaches Ian’s room and knocks on the door. He gets nothing in response, so he slowly nudges the door open. 

The lights are off and the curtains are closed, and there’s a collection of half full cups of water and mugs of coffee on the bedside table. Ian’s laying on the bed (or Trevor thinks so; all he sees is a pile of blankets). 

“Ian?” Trevor says, his voice quiet. He pulls the blanket down and sees Ian, not asleep but also not awake. He gently shakes Ian’s shoulder, and Ian pulls away from his touch. He’s definitely awake now.

“Go away, Trev,” Ian says, his voice hoarse. 

“What’s up?” Trevor asks, ignoring Ian’s request. He sits down on the bed next to Ian. “I’ve been calling you all week, you know.” Ian just grunts in response, pulling the thick comforter back up over his head. 

“Are you okay?” Trevor presses on, refusing to just leave when something is very obviously wrong. He wishes Lip had just told him what was going on; it’d be easier to figure it out than this. There are countless reasons Ian could be like this, Trevor thinks to himself. Depression, anxiety, sensory overload, bipolar disorder. He could just be tired, too, Trevor thinks as his thoughts start to spiral down. What if he has cancer, or what if he’s dying, or what if this is just the overly complicated way Ian chose to break up with him? “Lip said something about meds?”

“Yeah, they’re fucked up. Stopped fucking working.” Ian says after a moment of silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but definitely needed to go away. “Pisses me off,” Ian says, his voice muffled by the blanket. 

“Anything I can do?” Trevor says as he puts his hand back on Ian’s shoulder. This time, Ian doesn’t push him away, and Trevor breathes out a quick sigh of relief. They sit there together, Trevor rubbing Ian’s shoulder and Ian slowly but surely emerging from the blanket pile. A few minutes later, Ian’s sitting up, and Trevor has his arm around his shoulder, holding him close. It’s a little awkward, because of how tall Ian is, but they make it work. 

“I’m fucking crazy, you know,” Ian says, his voice quiet. 

“No, you’re not,” Trevor says. 

“Yeah, I fucking am. That’s why I’m here right now, ‘cause I’m fucking crazy.”

“It’s okay,” Trevor says, not really knowing how else to respond. “What are the meds for?” he asks, a little hesitant. 

“Fucking bipolar,” Ian says, his voice now more frustrated than anything. 

“Oh,” Trevor says, still stroking Ian’s arm. 

“Is that a dealbreaker?” Ian asks, gazing down at their intertwined hands. 

“No. It’s okay. Just wished you’d told me sooner, maybe.” Trevor says. It’s not a dealbreaker. Not at all. 

“Sorry,” Ian says.

“It’s okay,” Trevor says, again. And maybe Trevor stays there for the rest of the day, and that night, and once Ian’s feeling up to it, they go to a clinic and try to get things figured out. They do that, and everything’s okay, for now; but they know there’s gonna be another day like this, another week or even month like this, and that’s okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I appreciate you<3


End file.
